


Young Blood

by iamsherlockedwithjohn



Category: Desperate Housewives, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: 1.9k words, Danny Bolen - Desperate Housewives, Danny Bolen - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of others probably - Freeform, Minho - The Maze Runner, Newt - Freeform, Newt - The Maze Runner, Newt and Minho - partners in crime, Oneshot, Rich!Thomas, Thief!Minho, Thief!Newt, Thomas - Freeform, Thomas - The Maze Runner, minho - Freeform, partners in crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsherlockedwithjohn/pseuds/iamsherlockedwithjohn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas quickly grabs the beige colored coat from the messy floor and briefly glances at the screen on his iPhone, while he frantically do up the black, lustrous buttons. Damn it. 7:45 am. He's never going to reach the train in time. The door to his apartment slams loudly behind him and locks itself with a soft click and he hurries along the drenched street at a fast pace. The streets are almost empty, except for a few daring people, that unfurls the colorful umbrellas, on this bleak, dreary morning. He deigns none of the nameless strangers a single glare, not worth of it, just continues the same, perhaps a little more worried pace, than before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Young Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Heya, it's me, again. Do please tell me if there's anything I can do better to improve or come with constructive critic, it's always highly appreciated.

Thomas quickly grabs the beige colored coat from the messy floor and briefly glances at the screen on his iPhone, while he frantically do up the black, lustrous buttons. _Damn it_. 7:45 am. He's never going to reach the train in time. The door to his apartment slams loudly behind him and locks itself with a soft _click_ and he hurries along the drenched street at a fast pace. The streets are almost empty, except for a few daring people, that unfurls the colorful umbrellas, on this bleak, dreary morning. He deigns none of the nameless strangers a single glare, not worth of it, just continues the same, perhaps a little more worried pace, than before. He usually enjoys the tall, majestic skyscrapers, that reflects themselves in the blank puddles or the golden sunrays, which roams his delicate olive skin and colors the sky in enthralling, breathtaking nuances, making each and everyone stare in awe.

In only a short amount of time, he allows himself the necessity, to let his golden brown eyes stare at the too bright screen. A couple of droplets touch it and he wipes it off on the sleeve of his coat. _Fuck_. 7:50. Five minutes has already passed. All kinds of horrible, crushing thoughts and worst case scenarios, are running through his mind and the palm of his hands are sweaty, despite the harsh weather, but his breathing is rapidly increasing with time aswell. _Just his fucking luck_. What if he's not going to make it to the train in time? If it comes too early? Or is delayed, due to traffic or an accident, at worst case?

For each step he takes, the longer the endless distance between him and the trainstation, seems to be. In a bitter, hopeless second, he's about to turn around on the spot and go back, when a sigh of relief soothes his body. The stairs, leading down to the train station, appears and a blissful smile is resting on his lips for a small, precious seconds. An invisible, uncomfortable weight, which has more or less, been an inconvenient and chaotic burden to him, all morning through, lifts from his shoulders. He lowers them slowly, finally feeling free from the enormous pressure. His feet automatically carries him to the station, a path he's taken so many times, he knows it like the back of his own hand. The swarm of the surprisingly many people, is making it a lot more narrow and claustrophibic than expected, but he'll have to manage.

He shoves himself through the dense crowd of people and glances at one of the speakers, where a woman's incoherent, yet piercing voice, announces the dates for the next trains and the so called number of the different trains. He's not, thank fucking god, able to hear it, because of the murmuring voices or the many, noisy suitcases, that pass him by in the process. The subway is purely humming with life this early in the morning and Thomas thinks it's refreshing, so to say. One of the perks about public transport, is the people you run into or get a chance to talk and meet. Or, to be honest, for him it's one of the perks. 7:58. Perfect. The train can arrive at any minute, hell, even any second now, it's only a matter of time. So he reaches into his pocket, his left pocket, he needs to remember that, 'cause his wallet is there and -

”My sincerest apologies”

A person collides with him and he almost loses his footing, but thankfully gains balance, before it's too late for him. His eyes wander off the ground and catches a glimpse of a guy with bright, blonde hair, who gracefully rushes off in a different direction, than the one Thomas came from. He hesitantly guides his hand to his pocket, hoping to feel his wallet there at the exact same place like earlier, although he fervently hopes it's not necessary to check, that it was just an accident, whoever it was, bumped into him. A lump forms in his throat, when realization hits home and whatever colors there's left in his face, is drained in a matter of seconds. He eagerly convinces himself that his wallet is in his other pocket, but there's no such thing as luck. Whoever it was, stole his wallet.

And it's said that it takes 0,0015 seconds for a person to react to something. But at the same time, you also distract yourself with the fact, that someone bumped into you, which will give enough time for anyone to actually steal simply anything, because you're not just overwhelmed, you're left in a vulnerable position too. Perfect timing for someone to take advantage of you. He forces a halfhearted smile, when the train arrives and people nudges and shoves at everyone, to get there as fast as possible. _Fuck_. He chases after the stranger, in an abject attempt to get a hold of him. He reaches the last step, eyes desperately seeking the blonde, amongst the many cars and slowly crowded streets, but there's no trace left of him whatsoever. He's like vanished out of thin air, to his own disappointment.

In this very moment, time is valuable. Not just that, it can cost him a lot of money, which he has earned himself from the many hours he's spent at work. He carefully seals the door shut behind him and throws the letters from the mail box on the small kitchen table, except for one. Bills. He distractedly dials a number on his phone, the one thing that weren't stolen from him. Evidently he held his phone in such a tight grip as possible, on the way home, 'cause his fist is white as snow and is in painful cramps.

”Yes, hello, it's Thomas. Thomas Sanchez. Would you like me to spell it out for you? S-A-N-C-H, oh, wait, you got it? Great. The thing is, I'm calling regarding my mastercard, since it was stolen for not that long ago and I'd like to close my bank account, thank you. Wait, did someone already withdraw money? Are you able to tell me how much? Oh my f….” he ligthly massages his burrowed frown with two fingers and rips open the letter with a knife, while his phone is squeezed between his ear and shoulder blade. It's incredibly odd, how composed and calm he's acting right now, when you think about the seething wrath, that simmers within him and is ready to be unleashed any minute now.

”You're going to see what you can do about it? Thank you very much. Could you maybe tell me the remaining amount of money I have or if there's any insurance, because of it being stolen?”

◆ ◇ ◈ ◉ ◊

Two weeks later, he's at a charity event a saturday evening, invited by one of his good friends, who, of course, is the host. Danny Bolen. He's charming, ambitious, flirts with all and everyone that is of the race homo sapiens, of course, and Thomas is honestly surprised, if people don't fall for him right away. Handsome smile, attractive face, warm eyes and tall as fuck. Thomas is guided into the illuminated hall by a servant and owes him a thankful nod, before he accepts the glass of champagne. If he's going to survive this, he's going to do it with style and downs the content in one gulp. The acidulous aftertaste is burning in his throat and he sighs softly to himself.

In the centre there's a massive, glorious chandelier, shining bright like a million of marble-cut diamonds or the galaxy itself, if you ask him. Beautiful women, whom look like angels sent from heaven, are running around in fascinating high heels, gorgeous, desirous dresses and the men in tux, with slicked back hair and a strong scent of cologne, which would make everyone drop dead. His eyes meets the far back end of the room and all the tables are lined close to each other, with whatever the heart desires of delicious food and cold drinks. He notices that the cloths on all the tables, are alarming, precisely correct, so no one would suspect a thing. _Hm_. A voice abruptly interrupts his train of thoughts and he curiously turns his full attention to the podium. Danny, in own tall person, is nodding at the audience and the mumbling voices dies.

”'M ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all here, on this lovely evening. It's spectacular to see you all gathered here,” he says gently with a thick, american dialect and beams at them with blindingly white teeth. ”Now, that we're all here, I'd like to start with...”

Thomas' eyes widen in shock, when he sees the all too familiar blonde hair once again. The guy's this time, sticking to the background, keeping low profile. It's not like any of the others would notice him anyway, too caught up in Danny's words and is blissfully unaware of his fascinating, flawless movements, all the while he's stealing the wonders of the world. Another draining thought gets to him and with a frustrated sigh, chews on his lower lip. _He can't stop him. He can't_. He knows that he's a fast runner. He also knows that the guy's a professional, is out in the field right now because of his speciality or ability to steal without people knowing. And if Thomas even dared stopping him, he'd be in deep shit.

He doesn't know what he's dealing with. And frankly, the kid does seem pretty dangerous, the effortlessly movements eerily quiet and discrete. Too quiet for his liking. He silently wonders for how long he's been doing this. Suddenly an idea hits him and he nods to himself, not intending to leave the blonde out of his sight. A tall, robust asian, with dark, thick hair, who seems pretty intimidating to him in person, moves extremely close to the blonde and mutters something in his ear. Oh. _Oh_. Partners in crime.

An upbeat song plays from the speakers and this is his chance to make a move, otherwise it's going to be too late. Before the asian even has a chance to say another word, he sweeps the blonde off of his feet. For a moment the guy is taken aback, staring at him in terror, as he's leading them to the floor. It's as if realization dawns upon him, 'cause he eyes him suspiciously and Thomas confirms it with a nod, _that yes_ , it's me you stole from.

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"That's my intention, yes"

"You sure about that?"

Thomas' brow furrows and their elegant moves slowly stills, while he's staring at him. Not only is he trying to plant doubt in him, but he maintains his gaze with those wide, innocent hypnotizing eyes and _fuck_. His lips part slightly and to his own dismay, he can't help but glance at his pink tongue, as he swiftly wets the kissable lips with the tip of it. He's going to regret ever making his next decision. _Regret, regret, regret._

"Would you like to go out with me instead?"

It seems to spark the boy's interest and he grins at him with a quirky, relaxed smile. The boy releases his loose hold on Thomas' hips too early and he immediately wants, _needs_ , him closer in any way possible. "Would love that, Thomas. I'm Newt," and with that, Newt disappears in the crowd, Thomas watching his silhouette fade, amazed. When he opens his palm, he sees the crumpled piece of paper, the only evidence left behind, showing he was there.

 


End file.
